


there's something in the water (spoiler: it's poison)

by RK7200



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Gen, Immortal Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Memory Loss, Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)-centric, Temporary Character Death, and his weirdly sentient cloud flame sidekick, dark themes, entitled (and strong) bitchy skull, eventual angst, skull as a narcissistic sociopath on a constant power trip to 'fuck everyone else' land, skull constant attempts to be reunited with death, skull has a love-hate relationship with death, skull has weird moral compass and weird thoughts in general, skull in the mafia armed with the power of being a fucking brat, skull is an acrobaleno dammit and im going to make him stronk, skull thinking like hibari but somehow worse???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-30 18:29:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RK7200/pseuds/RK7200
Summary: Skull never feared death, it comes with the whole immortal thing he has going on. It always comes easily to him, a 'get out of death' card and an instant heal all in one. Come on, how the hell was Skull supposed tonottake advantage of it?Years down the line Death apparently decided 'fuck that' and screwed Skull over by suddenly charging Skull with an extra fee every time he came back to life. When Skull's memories became a hot currency to use to trade for his life it had him concerned and maybe a bit worried.Then, Skull said 'fuck that' and promptly died again, just to show Death who was in control here.It later turns out that it wasn't his best idea.





	1. conquering the world

Skull was dead and now he is alive. It wasn’t normal, this was something that Skull found out personally after reviving in front of a shady shopkeeper, who turns out to actually not be a shopkeeper. 

Skull remembers waking up in stages, hearing nervous footsteps pacing the room. Skull remembers how his limbs regained feeling and how his vision grew clearer. He remembers waking up, feeling more tired than he did before finding the shopkeeper looking down at him in shock and fear. He felt as though he was enveloped in water, or honey and his mind were encased in wool. It was a nice feeling, he thought, almost as though he was drifting on a cloud. He blinks then, something sparked inside of him, his body jolted back to life and suddenly his heart began beating once more. His mind moving into overdrive as he and the shopkeeper (was he even that?) lock eyes. 

Shocking, he knows. He supposes little Skull should’ve seen the numerous red flags that no, the “shopkeeper” wasn’t actually a nice man that just wanted to treat him to a warm meal but instead a horrendous pervert. An idiotic one at that (although he only learns that the man had accidentally overdosed him later in life.) Skull supposes that it was fortunate that the man wasn’t too experienced, not yet anyway for if Skull wasn't immune to death the man would've continued on his merry way, there was always something about him that set little Skull on edge, tripping on every red flag possible with his suspicious behavior. The man was just lucky that little Skull was just so desperate to soothe his all-consuming hunger back then. 

But desperation didn’t stop little Skull from killing the man. Taking advantage of his shock to tackle him, grabbing the dining knife and stabbed downwards. Sure, it wasn’t a sharp weapon by any means and the affair was messy. It had done its job, though, with enough force a dull weapon could be lethal especially when Skull had aimed at the man’s eyes. As young as he was Skull knew what the man had wanted to do and the thought drove him to push the knife deeper- had made something in him roar for justice to rid a disgusting beast from the streets. 

Skull remembers feeling no guilt after killing only a brief relief and vindication at the knowledge that one less monster will be roaming the streets tonight. Skull remembers that night as clear as though it were yesterday. It was the night that he had awakened his flames, noticing after how much stronger- more muscled- his arms became, knowing then that he was _special_. His hands were lit with purple flames encasing them, he should’ve panicked at seeing his hand literally being on fire, but at that moment he knew that no other color would ever be as beautiful. 

The flames were something pure back then. They brought him a feeling of pure childish happiness. It made him think of the stories that his mother used to tell him, those involving magic and heroes. That night he had truly thought that he had become one of those heroes, that his flames were a sign that he was special- that he was meant for something greater. He justifies the rush that he felt- how right it was- as just adrenaline or something just as believable. 

He was, in the end, meant to be something special. Not a hero, though. The flames that he produced weren’t that innocent after all. Cloud flames, he later learns, propagation. Not magic. He finds it somewhat fitting that he was a Cloud. No, he supposes to outsiders he wasn’t. He had no territories he particularly wants to claim nor the brittle personality that most Clouds tends to hold. Propagation, though, it suits him. 

As a street rat he has always wanted, always craved for more and more, wanting to grab at anything that he could. Even now, when he had wealth he still craves, he still wants more, still greedy for things that he does not possess. Skull realizes later that even though he doesn’t particularly care for territories, his obsession remains, focused on special trinkets and status symbols instead. Still wants to grab and _claim,_ baring his teeth at anyone that would dare to challenge him, but not over territory no. Skull would defend his wealth to the death, would hoard everything and anything, ripping the throats of those to challenge his claim.

That visceral side of him rarely appears now years later, forcefully choked by his iron will. Still, it escapes his hold sometimes, the urge to take, claim, possess grips him fully in its thrall during those moments. Becoming more prominent as he grows older. He finds his instincts roaring for escape wanting to act on his flame’s wish, feeling it beckon to him. The thought of how great it would be, how freeing, how _right_ it would be- drives him closer to the edge each time. It becomes harder to shut his instincts down each time and the fantasy becomes more tantalizing with each withdrawal. 

Skull doesn’t remember much of his childhood beyond that moment (violet flames surround him, burning around the knife slick with blood, the man’s flesh burning- becoming charred when touching the flame) after his parent's death, not because he can’t. Rather Skull tries to not think of his childhood at all. It pains him to think of the numerous cold nights that permanently etches an unmelting chill inside his bones, or of his all-consuming hunger and desire to live. Skull would watch as numerous other street rats die around him to the wretched winter, he always wondered why he had survived while they had not. Older beggars on the street called him resilient and some even suspect him of being a demon, feeding on the other children and causing their death. 

Now he thinks of it again and knows that to be false. There were countless nights where Skull had fallen asleep, cushioned in the snow around him and was never supposed to wake again. Yet he always wakes, feeling cold and sore each time, but _alive._ Each time he wakes up a bit quicker than the last, some sort of perverse adaptation.

Nevertheless, Skull soon grew a reputation on the streets of being resilient to death. Immortal, some would jest. He did think himself special and his gift something unique. He became a stuntman later, it made sense. It was a ludicrous career perfect for someone with his unique constitution. What better stuntman than one that would take any job, from mundane to suicidal, and come out alive each time. Over time eventually, Skull grew the same reputation in the industry as he did on the streets. Sometimes Skull would not come out of a job entirely unscathed, but that became less over time as he gained more experience. His job also taught him a few things about his ability.

He learns that there are many ways to die and his ability would vary based on his cause of death. The timing of his revival would change based on how he died. Through experimentation on his own time, Skull couldn’t stand being clueless about something that was his, Skull learned which deaths were the easiest and which were the messiest. He learns that his injuries would heal at the time of his revival but he would be drained, hunger rearing its ugly head a reminder of his childhood. 

Snapping his neck was an example of an easy way to die, it was quick to heal and took the least energy. At first, it was convenient for him to utilize if he perchance got an injury that would interfere with his job and in turn his income. A quick snap of his spinal cord and Skull would be back, ready to pull whatever suicidal stunts his client wanted. But then he realized it wasn’t as effective as he had hoped, there was always a chance that it would leave him paralyzed and thus was not something he wanted to risk.

So Skull had to adapt and change, instead, he finds that poison was a quick way to reset his body. Poison coursing through his veins was something that he eventually got used to, that he now associates with healing and comfort. He always keeps something akin to a suicide pill in his mouth every time he took a job, ready to bite down if he messed up. It was odd at first, Skull having to adjust to a new addition to his routine. Hell, sometimes Skull even accidentally bit down and died before he could even begin his job.

As he always does Skull adapts, and biting down became a conditioned response. Bike flip went wrong? Bite. Falling off his bike? Bite. Broken bones or worse? Bite. Putting his foot in his mouth with the occasional fan? Despite how much Skull wish to be six feet under during those moments, he restrained himself and move on determined to be better for his next fan. 

It wasn’t long before Skull couldn’t get enough of the feeling of being in between life and death. The brief reprieve from life's struggles and an escape from death’s cold embrace. It was addicting, he would awaken- yet not fully alive, his heart still- his body enveloped by honey and his mind wrapped with cotton. Then he would truly wake, body restarting and it was then- during that moment in between where everything suddenly turned loud as his body tensed, life coursing through it once more- it was then that Skull feels unbridled joy. 

Skull began to seek out danger- seek out more lethal jobs that would give him either the rush or better yet, fulfill his addiction. No one complained about his obsession, they all joked that he was an adrenaline junkie and would leave it at that. Skull didn’t mind either, he was literally being paid for satisfying his addiction so it was a win-win. 

Skull tends to travel around for his job, wants to see all the different sceneries and luxury. The souvenirs were the best part of his travel, seeing all the trinkets amuses him and always make something inside of him purr in satisfaction. The more expensive the item the more he wants it and auctions were always his favorite place to shop. Nothing felt better than snatching something- it didn’t matter if he wanted or liked it- from another person. Nothing would beat that feeling of pride as he watches as their face fall and their expressions grew tense. 

He supposes it was a bit wrong to be so smug about his victories as an incident appeared during one of his trips to Italy. When he was still young and impulsive, at fifteen with limbs too long and inhibition too short. Money works wonders to direct people to look the other way about his youth and the dubious nature of his dangerous job. 

Fifteen was a precarious age for Skull, teenage hormones and puberty made sure of that. With no parents and no guardian to control him and wealth at his fingertips, well, it was no wonder that Skull had derailed. Tested the limits of what he could and what he couldn’t do. Saw how money kept most trouble away and how a too deep wallet and too willing mouth could get almost anyone into his bed. Skull learns how fortune favors the beautiful and Skull would do anything to skew the odds to his benefit. He learns how to use his face and figure to charm and claim, another bed partner was something new he could take and possess, if only for one night. The thrill of claiming someone new each night was wonderful and Skull lives for the high that comes with each new conquest. 

That was not to say that Skull had no standards though, even if he was a horny teenager, and he made sure that everything was safe, sane, and consensual. He ensured that his partners were other teenagers since he really didn’t want to be jailbait and reenact some sort of creepy life action Lolita.

Fifteen was the age where Skull discovers how easy it is to just take and claim. While his wealth was grand, Skull’s nimble digits would often find themselves with the wallet of a stranger or two by the end of a quick walk down the street. Fifteen was when he learned that what Skull wants, Skull would get. One way or another. Armed with his instincts and power Skull would soon stalk the night, beginning at first in small shops but his hunger grew ever deeper and museums soon became a common target for the start-up thief. Skull thrived on the wealth that he accumulated and the hedonistic lifestyle that came with it. 

Regardless, he had gone to an auction in Italy, all in his free time, and engaged in an enjoyable bidding war against a rich man, clearly coming from old money Skull thinks with disdain. All the better to crush him. Eventually, Skull wins, of course, what Skull wants, Skull gets. At this point, Skull was a high-end stuntman who also took every and any job he could, with a side gig as a motorcycle stunt rider. It was a side job that also gave him a steady income and reputation that gave him even more jobs. Riding and performing on a motorcycle also gave him joy as well, with each jump he defied death. It would never measure up to the actual experience but it was still fun. 

Regardless Skull won and trust-fund boy lost. He thought it was clear. But it became apparent that Trust Fund was a sore loser. 

“You,” the man spat, words slurred. Skull smelled the liquor around the man and wrinkled his nose, he suddenly remembers how alcohol poisoning was not a fun way to die. 

“Me,” he replied, shifting the box- that he won- delicately in his arms. 

“Give that to me,” the man wobbled over, trying to paw at Skull’s prize.

“No.” Skull eyed the two muscled men next to Trust Fund. Bodyguards, but something tells him that they weren’t ordinary grunts. 

“Do you know who I am? I’m the- the heir to the Marchesi Familia,” the man declared, sneering at Skull. Familia, shit, if Skull recalled that was some mafia shit. God, how did Skull had the luck to encounter a mafia brat?

Nevertheless. “I don’t care who you are. This is mine.” His gift stirs within him, his muscles tensed, ready for action. Ready to defend his claim against this- this pest. 

His eyes glowed violet, the light glaringly obvious in the moonless night. A warning, something inside him croons, run little insect, run or face me and die. 

He snarls, baring his teeth, “this is mine.”

This is mine, I won it. You can’t touch it. This is mine, I claimed it. This is mine, you’ll only take it over my dead body.

_This is mine, are you going to challenge my claim?_ he wants to snarl at the thought. With teenage hormones and potent Cloud flames assassinating his logic entirely. The need to destroy and assert his power is raw and powerful and Skull feels strong as he stands before the three men- insects, his instincts tell him, so easy to crush- backed entirely by his pride and drive. 

This is mine, the mantra continues inside his head. This is mine and you can’t take it away. 

“A cloud?” the brat mumbles, he was startled. The brat takes a step back, stumbling a bit. The two grunts by his side steadies him. Now, in this dim night Skull can see how their eyes are glowing a soft light as well, red and green respectively. It was a dull shine, he thinks, nothing compared to mine. 

Skull knows- just like how he knows the sky is blue and the ocean is cold- that he is the predator here. They are the prey and they will die for their transgressing against him and his. Their deaths will be swift, yes, but not now. Not when there is much he needs to take from them before their death. 

“What is a cloud?” he asks them. Commanding them to answer. The brat laughs, unable to hear the threat of violence underneath his words. 

“A civilian Cloud! God, Lorenzo can you believe my luck? Father will surely be-” sick of hearing the boy ramble as if he wasn’t there, Skull moves. Suddenly the boy stops talking, it must be difficult to produce words with a hand around his throat. He wanted to rip his throat out, to dig his claws in and pull. See how funny the situation would be, see if the brat can laugh then.

“Answer me,” Skull demanded. This time they couldn’t miss his threat. The two grunts move as well, drawing their weapons. Skull wasn’t patient enough to deal with them. His power sparks and his hand was engulfed in beautiful violet flames, casting his face in a hellish light, while his other hand still cradled his box gently to his body. 

“You move, he dies,” he said. When he dies you’ll be next, went unsaid but heard all the same. He could feel the muscle in his arms growing to inhumane proportions. Monstrous some would say, but Skull finds it suitable. It was power, it will serve as a message to those to dare challenge him of how their bones would snap under his fingers. Skull feels strong in this state, like a true predator ready to lunge and consume, it was an addicting feeling.

“Wait- wait, don’t kill me,” the brat choked out, fingers clawing at his hand, “I- I can give you money! I’ll forget about all of this and I swear that my familia won’t hear about this! I can also-” Skull tightens his fingers around the brat’s throat. He feels something trying to reach for the gift coursing through his arm as though trying, futilely, to link together. For a millisecond he falters, a strange urge to let go hits him as the brat’s eyes blaze a light orange. It was brief and Skull doubted that the brat and his two goons noticed, but the momentary weakness made Skull feel even more annoyed as he claws his nails into the brat’s neck. He squashes the invader and watches as the brat’s face grew pale. 

The invader promises home, a place to belong. It was a tiny thing, though, weak. Easy to destroy with a moment’s thought. The promise of home that the invader speaks of feels vile and artificial. The promise felt oily on his skin, something that needed to be washed off immediately. 

“Answer me,” he repeats. Patience thinning with each passing moment that the invader dares to get closer to his core.

It was a wonder how much a canary could sing if given the right incentive. 

Skull crushes the brat’s windpipe once he finished talking. He quickly took care of the grunts after, his gift- Cloud flames, that’s what it was- moving to lengthen and sharpen his nails as he uses them to slash the two grunt’s throats. Strengthening his nails as the stabs into their hearts. 

Skull never said that he would let the brat live. It was an ending befitting of an insect who dared challenge his claim. Though the information the brat had was certainly useful. Very detailed as well, as befitting of the heir to a mafia family. 

It was a bit disheartening to hear that his gift wasn’t something that belonged to him. It angered him to hear that there are others who possessed his same gift, who wielded the same Cloud flames, although he soothes himself with the fact that their flame will never be as strong nor beautiful as his. Skull also learned about Harmonization, and what a fascinating thing that is, a family created from nothing but a bond forged from flames. But Skull had no desire to seek out a Sky to harmonize with, seeking out a Sky was something only insects would do. No, Skull would make them come to him. Skull would be the strongest Cloud in this generation and then Skies would come flocking to him. At that point no Sky would be able to force a bond with him, not unless they want to be Scorched then killed. At that point Skull would have the power, despite the Sky being the figurehead of the familia. 

Even then Skull doubts he would ever want a Sky at all.

The sadness soon stops as well as he realizes that there was a whole new world out there, just waiting for him to come and conquer. Powerful people whom he could challenge and crush. Battles to be fought and won. Beautiful trinkets that he could take and hoard. There were many things waiting for him and heat rushes through his veins, giving him a high that he hasn’t felt ever since he had murdered his first monster.

What was there to fear, death? 

No, Skull was diving head first into this world, and he would leave devastation in his wake.

_This whole world will be yours._ his flames promises. 

Mine, he thinks with crazed hunger, mine. 

His flames sings a beautiful melody that he can’t resist. Skull doesn't want to resist. The lure of danger and wealth draws Skull in like a hurricane. At fifteen with little patience and even less care for himself, let alone others, Skull sets out to own the world.

_Take what you want and destroy what you can’t claim._


	2. kiss me (and you'll die)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skull thinks about his father and plots for his future

Skull admits that some would think that diving straight into the mafia with almost no knowledge and no connections whatsoever would be foolish and fucking suicidal. Skull would also admit that he would maim those who would think that since a) nothing Skull do would ever be close to foolish and b) it wasn’t suicidal if he couldn’t die anyway. Skull was armed with his Cloud flames, wealth, and immortality so he thinks that he was basically set for the mafia. 

Skull was never one for planning, rather he was one of improvisations instead. Preferring thinking on his feet rather than stuck patiently biding his time waiting for his opponents to fall with his sinister plans. No, frankly to Skull that was a coward’s way of fighting. It was something a weak enemy would do. Skull detested that thought. Plotting and scheming was also too indirect for Skull. 

If it were up to him, Skull would fight head-on, to the death. A show of his power and strength to his viewers and a warning to those who thought for a second about challenging him. It had proved effective when he was just a lanky street rat and it would continue to prove effective even now. 

Little rebellions would start, but those were always fun to deal with. More enemies to fight and more hopes to crush was something that Skull would never complain about. It was another of his routine. Fun but somewhat predictable. Eventually, the fear of his display would wear off and another upstart would start deluding themselves that they were better than him, that somehow, they could become the top dog. Skull would then fix that, he wouldn’t kill them, he finds that it was much more fun to cripple them in some way. To have his enemies live and serve as a walking example of what happens if anyone dares cross Skull deMort. 

Skull finds that his father would approve of this if his father was somehow watching him from above. Skull heavily doubts that, though, knowing that his father was no saint. Rather his father was more of a monster than man. Skull regrets that he wasn’t able to put a bullet through his father’s heart, to show him how much stronger Skull is than him. 

His father called him an insect, once, years ago. Told him that his heart was weak and his spine brittle. Explained how he needed to toughen his heart and his spine to have a chance at even surviving in this world. 

“No more games for you, boy.” his father said, taking away his favorite storybook. Something raged in Skull then, but he didn’t know what it was still too young to know what killing means. It was a different time back then. For Skull fairy tales and bedtime stories had stopped at five. Replaced with daggers and guns, violence and the reality of what a shithole the world actually was. 

He had looked to his mother for help, for her to give him his storybook back. She only turns away from him, face resigned and hands clenched. Skull learned what betrayal was then. Skull had wanted to do something to her in his anger. Yet not knowing what. Needless to say, Skull had never looked at his mother the same way since. 

“You’ll die if you don’t get strong,” his father had said one day during training. His eyes were harsh like the dagger he had stabbed Skull with. “I won’t have a weak offspring.” 

_I’ll kill you myself._ Was what he meant. Skull didn’t know that then though, still caught up in the hero-worship that most children still have of their fathers. It was an innocent age, Skull thinks, a time where he was still unaware and still thought that his father was _good._

Ah, childhood innocence. How nice. 

When asked what the hell ‘death’ was, his father had shot his dog, Ace, right in front of him. It was a very visual lesson for Skull as he watches as the creatures die slowly, whimpering with pain, its breath growing shorter with each second. Regardless, Skull had never had a pet since. Attachment, his father had said the word with disgust, makes you weak. As to demonstrate the point his father fires another shot into the dog’s body. Making it howl once more. 

There was something like glee in his eyes and Skull wondered if his father only bought Ace just for this lesson. 

_I’ll show you weak._ He had thought, remembering the vicious fire inside his stomach. The anger that he had felt, the hatred, all directed at his father. His flames were still dormant then, too powerful for his adolescent body to handle. Skull would still like to think that that moment was the catalyst of everything to come. Skull remembers feeling nothing but anger that his father had killed something that he claimed- the rage at how his father had taken something from him, something unique that he’ll never get back. 

He starts plotting then, coming up with schemes and plots to kill his father and his mother. His mother first, to show his father what it feels like to have something be _taken_ away from you. Each attempt failed and each time his father would laugh at his expense. Skull’s hatred would grow with each failure as he trains harder under his father. It was foolish of him to think of killing his mother, he would admit later, his father and he were cut from the same cloth after all. What does it matter to a man like his father if his wife died or not?

He knows now that other children aren’t taught like him. They are taught to be soft and kind. To be _good._

Skull was not taught to be kind, to help others in need or to care about human lives. Despite this Skull thinks that he wouldn’t care about these things in the first place, his nature was already as such before the lessons started. Skull was taught the best ways to kill and how to fight. He was taught where to stab and where to shoot. Skull was taught power and strength. Taught how the world was war and it will chew him up and spit him out if he was weak. Skull was told how to toughen his spine until his exterior match. 

His father was at least a good teacher. Never a kind one, rough and harsh with his words and actions. Always swift with punishment if Skull ever disappoints. At age seven Skull knew the ways to make a man bleed, to make him suffer a long and torturous death. Knew the multitudes of weapons and how to utilize them. At age seven with his nerves tougher and his hands calloused Skull had learned how to hunt and subjugate. 

When other children were learning their ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ he learned how to torture and interrogate instead. His father taught him how to make pigs squeal and which bones to crack. Had captured real-life ‘pigs’ (as his father called them, Skull would prefer the term insect but to each man his own) and guide him in where to stab and where to hurt to get them to crack. 

Skull had fully intended on turning this knowledge on his father once the time comes, when not if, thinking about his victory always makes Skull giddy. 

In the end, he never managed to kill his father, all his plans crumbled one morning when he wakes up in a world with his father dead and his mother gone. Skull never found out what happened to her, but he hoped that she had died as well- a painful death. No one leaves Skull and lives to tell the tale. If she did he would hunt her down and kill him herself. 

Yet, he felt nothing but triumph as he stands near his father’s bed. 

_Ha, who’s the weak one now?_ He had thought as he shoots another bullet into his father’s corpse. It would never be as good as killing the man himself, but it did bring him a sense of closure. Of victory and power as he fires another into his father’s skull, a payback for the time his father had killed his dog. _I’m alive and you’re dead._

Skull had taken up his new name after that, taken all his things and left. Never to look back. 

His father never prepared him to live on the streets, but Skull had adapted easily enough. With enough time he was as proficient as one could be living without a family and home.

In the end, he supposes that his father had been right about the world and its cruelty. Skull would stare at the mirror later and see the similarities between him and his father. See the cracks behind ‘Skull the Immortal Stuntman’ and see the monster lurking beneath the veneer. There was something satisfying about that, it made him feel powerful. It was a testament to him that he was strong enough now. Stronger than his father could ever be. 

His skills never faltered even as he dabbled in other jobs. Now, with his dive into the mafia world Skull thinks that he respected his father a little bit more. Skull supposes that he was never supposed to be coddled if he did he would be dead by now with little power to speak of. By then he would be another insect ready to be stamped down the moment a predator comes along. 

His father, as odd and cruel as he was, was the perfect father for someone like Skull. Who would’ve never benefited from kindness and love. Love was a thing for those softer than he was and Skull was learned that being kind only meant a lack of power.

Hearing about Harmonization and family only wants to make him laugh. The brat says that bonds made you strong and family gave you power. Skull had only learned of betrayal from his. Skull only knows that family wasn't as simple as the brat made it out to be. 

Skull thinks about his mother and her betrayals. How he'd fallen for all of her deceits back then, too young to know how she was also cruel like Father.

_"I'll stay by your side, forever and ever."_ She had promised, eyes soft as she gazed down at him. She was a good liar, he thinks, he remembers how easy it was for him to believe her then. Mother was like Father in the end as she showed him another side of reality. A much harsher one where love was meant to be ammunition to hurt and promises things to be broken. 

She was crueler than Father in that aspect. She lulled him into a sense of security with her softness and her words of love. At age six Skull had thought that love was magic and knew nothing of hatred. She had made him relax and taught him personally what it means to falter. She showed him how love didn't mean shit in this world when he woke up one night finding his mother on top of him, her hands shaking around his throat. 

She cried then, and said, _"I'm only doing what's best for you because I love you!"_ He had put a knife to her throat then, stabbing into her face and fingers. He had wanted to stab her through the heart to show her how much her love hurts. She only didn't die because Father had stopped him.

Love was a terrible thing, he learned then, staring down at a woman who said that she had loved him at the same moment with her hands trying to end his life. Love was a weak thing, he also learns, feeling anger and hatred roaring inside of him. He learned that anger would temper his heart and hatred would fuel his flames. It was then that he saw how much better wrath and hate was, how simple they were. How they didn't _hurt_.

Skull had believed her promises, once upon a time. As she cried near his bedside about how she'll protect him from Father. He had known she couldn't, but he hadn't known that she would be just as cruel. Her lessons just as painful.

She was soft, he supposes, but she had wounded him the moment she left. Her action had hurt him, made him feel pain that she had dared to leave _him._ For that alone Skull would wring her neck. Show her all the wonderful things Daddy taught him while she was busy playing good mother to all her students.

If he was taught how to be soft, Skull would still be weak and ignorant to the beauty of violence and the thrill of the kill. If he had such insects for parents Skull was afraid that he’d never have known of his potential at all.

What a tragedy that would’ve been. 

\---

“H- hey, what’s your name,” a boy, around his age Skull would wager asks. His eyes were nervous and his body language all screamed his need to flee. He was fairly attractive with his curly hair and blue eyes. Someone that Skull would have in his bed on most days if given the chance. Though it wasn’t his appearance that got Skull interested, instead it was his Flames. The boy was a Sky, a normal one clearly searching for elements. 

“Vincent,” Skull lied, “what’s your name?” 

With his hair dyed silver and his green contacts, Skull made sure that he was far from the appearance of Skull. He made sure that ‘Vincent’ was still attractive though, at least enough so he could lure and bait his prey. 

The boy smiles, it was a beautiful thing, if a bit tad innocent, “I- I’m Luca Russo, nice t-to meet you.”

Russo, another mafia family. The boy, Luca, was the heir if Skull’s informant was correct. He had a boyish charm about him, sheltered upbringing perhaps. For he was clearly unused to flirting nor any kind of advances. That only made it easier for Skull. 

“Would you like to have fun?” he asks, the innuendo obvious in his words. The boy looked shocked, Skull deduced that he was prepared to ask Skull to bond, not to be propositioned. 

“No?” Skull pretends to be disheartened, then shrugs, “alright then, I’ll leave you to it.”

“No, wait!” the boy shouted, grabbing Skull’s arm.

Skull raises an eyebrow.

The boy looks down at his feet, nervous but mixed with anticipation. Teenage hormones was a force not to be underestimated. Not to mention the boy clearly thinks that he can both get a fun night and a Cloud guardian out of this encounter. 

“Yeah, l- let’s have fun.” The boy blushes then, Skull thinks it was rather cute. It would make it easier for him to sleep with the boy. 

At night, as Luca moans and shiver, Skull thinks that he was not a bad lay at all. His blue eyes produced a sly look that made Skull questioned whether he was not that inexperienced or just a natural seductress. It didn’t matter though as Skull pounds into the boy, biting at his nape. It was an instinct that Skull didn’t bother resisting at this point. Luca didn’t seem to mind at his roughness, his moans becoming louder his fingers clawing into Skull’s back. 

Skull continues to nip at Luca’s skin, claiming him for all to see. It was a temporary thing, though. It didn’t matter to Skull at this point either, the need to claim and possess clouding his mind entirely. The marks would fade as they tend to and Skull didn’t care. They wouldn’t fade tonight though when Luca was writhing in his arms. For tonight Luca was his and when tomorrow comes Luca won’t be anymore.

Flames and pure teenage energy was a wonderful thing, and as Luca’s flames reached for his he didn’t stop it, knowing that he can just as easily break the fragile connection between them. Both he and Luca gasped when their flames connected though, frail as their bond may be, it was enough to have them both sinking more into their carnal pleasure.

Afterwards, when they lay next to each other, basking in the afterglow, Luca laughs. 

“Wow, I- I can’t believe that I got myself a Cloud!” Luca’s smile was wide and it could’ve lit up the entire room. 

“What’s a cloud?” Skull asks, putting as much cluelessness into his tone as possible. 

Once again, Luca looked shocked. 

“You mean you’re a civilian Cloud?” Luca shrieked, clearly panicking as he shot up from the bed now sitting. Skull attempts to calm him down, placating him by placing a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Skull asks, eyes confused and concerned. 

“I um- well-”

“Tell me, please?” Skull pleads, letting their bond pulse and Luca suddenly stills as though regaining his confidence. It was a wonder how easy it was to manipulate a bond. How much power an element could hold over their Sky if given the right tools. 

So Luca explained everything again, Skull pretending to be confused by it all only to nod at the end. 

“So you- you’re the heir of a mafia family,” Skull repeats, making himself sound as anxious as possible, “and you have magical flames that enable you to- to _bond_ with other, different, magic flames. And apparently I’m a Cloud, which is rare and you bonded with me and now I’m yours?”

The words were hard to force out. Skull belonged to no one- would never be anyone’s possessions. But he was playing a role right now and Vincent had no such qualms about belonging to a Sky. 

Skull felt their bond pulse yet again, Luca’s attempt to calm him down. 

“What the fuck have I got myself into?” Skull asks, shaking his head a little. Luca looks somewhat apologetic. 

Weak, Skull thinks in a voice not different from his father’s. When you claim something there is no guilt to be felt about it. 

It took a while longer for Vincent to ‘calm down.’ 

“Well, I guess I’m in it for the long haul now,” Skull states, somewhat resigned, “I can’t believe you’ve made an honest man out of me.” 

Luca laughs, relief at seeing that his new guardian wasn’t so opposed to the idea of bonding after all. 

“Ah, but won’t your parents mind?” Skull interjected, looking down at his hands, “I mean, I’m a civie and you’re the heir. Even if I’m rare or whatever won’t they mind?” 

Luca considers this and his face turns grim, “yeah, I guess they won’t be too happy, but I mean with time they’ll accept you.”

He squeezes Skull’s hand as a way to reassure his ‘distressed’ Cloud. 

“You wouldn’t have anyone who can teach me to be- I don’t know- better at using these magic flame thing? I- I mean if my flames or whatever gets strong enough then they should be happier right?” Skull’s eyes darted around the room, trying to lay the anxiousness on thick. 

Luca smiles then, his grim expression fading away in an instant, “you’re right! If you’re a strong enough Cloud then it doesn’t matter if you were a civilian or not!”

Skull smiles, it wasn’t a nice smile, but Luca didn’t seem to notice either way. It was true that some families didn't prefer civilians in their familia, tainting it and all that bull, but Skull had found that there were some Skies who preferred civilians. Easier to manipulate and mold. It was an approach that Skull approved of, taking in civilians was basically being handed a free canvas and being allowed to change it at will. Luca didn't need to care about that though.

“Perfect,” Skull says instead, pushing Luca down for another kiss. 

Skull might say that scheming was a coward’s way of doing things, but right now, no matter how much potential he has Skull still needs to learn. He’ll endure being a coward for just a bit longer, and once, when he finally learns everything he won’t need to do these petty things anymore. 

At that point, Luca’s Cloud guardian will die a tragic death and their bonds severed. 

It would be then that Skull rises from his ashes and be properly introduced to the mafia. As Skull this time, with the means to crush and challenge anyone he likes. At that time Skull will finally start on his conquest. 

Skull didn’t lie, he was in for the long haul. Just not for Luca and his bond. 

At fifteen with ambition in his blood and Cloud flames screaming for release, Skull dreams of a future. A beautiful future filled with violence and death. Of battles won and treasures claimed. Of finding his mother and finally creating an ending to this prolonged loose thread since his childhood. 

At fifteen Skull begins his conquest and with lips laced with poison, he kisses Luca.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skull is not a good person, neither is his father. I find it really fun to write about them and their dynamic so I hope you enjoyed it too. 
> 
> Leave a comment on your thoughts, what you liked, what you disliked! all your comments motivate me! <3

**Author's Note:**

> skull is an interesting character to explore and I like to change things up a bit so let's see where this goes!
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! This is my first work in the KHR fandom so it might not be the best, but I hope you guys will like it. Leave a comment on your thoughts to make the author super happy! <3


End file.
